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Abstract

hem.Though the intensity of my terror dissipated over the course of that year, the undercurrent of fear remained; indeed, it remains to this day.In 1973, the year I turned sixteen, I attended my friend Leslie’s birthday party. Though Leslie hung with the “pot-heads” — I cannot abide the stench of the stuff — her parents were present, so I had no concerns.Though I’d eaten a supper of spaghetti-and-meatballs half-an-hour prior, I couldn’t resist — three servings of — macaroni-and-cheese, which I washed down with four cups of fruit punch.I was on my fourth cup when I observed Justine, who was rumored to be into more than marijuana, proffer a cup of punch to a friend.He shook his head, after which Justine leaned toward him and whispered.He smiled, then chugged the cup of punch.It must be spiked!With liquor?Or with LSD!I didn’t taste alcohol; LSD is tasteless.Panicked, I rushed to Leslie and told her I must be coming down with something because I’d suddenly started to feel strange, and I needed to call my mother to take me home.A boy I didn’t know, overhearing this, looked at me with concern and said: “I hope you haven’t been drinking the punch; they spiked it with

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LSD.”Then smiled and said: “Just kidding.”It was in the interim instant that I was flooded with terror, such as I’ve never experienced, before or since.As it turned out, my “strange” feeling was consequential to my ingestion of three (post-pasta-supper) servings of mac-n-cheese.And four cups of fruit punch.Mercifully, unspiked.To my amusement, after coining the title word, I googled “Acidophobia” and got a hit; i.e., the fear of being burned by acid. I suffered from this variant as well! I was terrified to touch the bottle of sulfuric acid in the chemistry lab.Thanks to my colleague Lee for the heads-up as regards so-called windowpane acid; in fact, the term refers to both acid-impregnated gel tabs (west coast), and 4-squared blotter paper (east coast).In the mass hysteria of 1966, misinformation ran rampant, besides which, my muddled mind was prone to misconstrue whatever truth was interspersed therein; thus morphed the gel tabs and paper frames into literal windowpanes!Our own Jay Squires tells me he’d heard tell of an instance where a group of kids smeared acid on a window and licked it, presumably as a twisted play on the moniker “windowpane.”</article></body>

Acidophobia: Fear of ‘Tripping’

Terrorized: Fruit punch spiked with LSD?

In 1966, when I was nine, Haight-Ashbury — “psychedelic” district in San Francisco, California — was inundated with LSD, aka “acid,” hallucinogen du jour.

Horror stories abounded of one-way trips to hell.

There were tales of restaurant sugar bowls spiked with acid, minuscule amounts of which would “trip out” those who inadvertently partook.

It was said that a mere liquid ounce in the reservoir would trip out the entire city.

Then there was “windowpane” acid, which per its moniker was smeared on windows and licked (!) off.

Thus commenced my phobia.

I shunned sugar bowls; I’d use only packets.

I was afraid to drink water. “Freshly squeezed” OJ (thank you, Tropicana) was my go-to thirst-quencher.

I took great care not to touch windows; I avoided even looking through them.

Though the intensity of my terror dissipated over the course of that year, the undercurrent of fear remained; indeed, it remains to this day.

In 1973, the year I turned sixteen, I attended my friend Leslie’s birthday party. Though Leslie hung with the “pot-heads” — I cannot abide the stench of the stuff — her parents were present, so I had no concerns.

Though I’d eaten a supper of spaghetti-and-meatballs half-an-hour prior, I couldn’t resist — three servings of — macaroni-and-cheese, which I washed down with four cups of fruit punch.

I was on my fourth cup when I observed Justine, who was rumored to be into more than marijuana, proffer a cup of punch to a friend.

He shook his head, after which Justine leaned toward him and whispered.

He smiled, then chugged the cup of punch.

It must be spiked!

With liquor?

Or with LSD!

I didn’t taste alcohol; LSD is tasteless.

Panicked, I rushed to Leslie and told her I must be coming down with something because I’d suddenly started to feel strange, and I needed to call my mother to take me home.

A boy I didn’t know, overhearing this, looked at me with concern and said: “I hope you haven’t been drinking the punch; they spiked it with LSD.”

Then smiled and said: “Just kidding.”

It was in the interim instant that I was flooded with terror, such as I’ve never experienced, before or since.

As it turned out, my “strange” feeling was consequential to my ingestion of three (post-pasta-supper) servings of mac-n-cheese.

And four cups of fruit punch.

Mercifully, unspiked.

To my amusement, after coining the title word, I googled “Acidophobia” and got a hit; i.e., the fear of being burned by acid. I suffered from this variant as well! I was terrified to touch the bottle of sulfuric acid in the chemistry lab.

Thanks to my colleague Lee for the heads-up as regards so-called *windowpane* acid; in fact, the term refers to both acid-impregnated gel tabs (west coast), and 4-squared blotter paper (east coast).

In the mass hysteria of 1966, misinformation ran rampant, besides which, my muddled mind was prone to misconstrue whatever truth was interspersed therein; thus morphed the gel tabs and paper frames into literal windowpanes!

Our own Jay Squires tells me he’d heard tell of an instance where a group of kids smeared acid on a window and licked it, presumably as a twisted play on the moniker “windowpane.”